86 Fu Kee
[December 25, 2009]
Dear softrice fan:
On the day of Christmas, mom indecisively revokes our plans for a family dim sum morning, and reverts to her early idea of visiting my cousins in Brooklyn. The two of us take the inter-Chinatown van on Elizabeth and Canal streets from Manhattan into Brooklyn. As the only passengers on the van, our driver drops us off in front of our destination, Spring Garden Restaurant. The waiting crowd gathered on the streets, all waiting for an available table, shocks mom. We get a numbered raffle ticket and patiently wait for a table of six to free up. When the manager calls our number, we discover the tickets are color coded too. They were on green, while ours was red. The wait will be at least an hour or two, which I expected, but mom wonders if the food is free for so many people to come out and eat. I do not mind the wait, because I planned such inconvenience into my timetable. Mom is flabbergasted.
Mom wants to change plans, even though she should have seen this coming. She calls fifth aunt and asks if they still want to come. After a dragged out conversation, mom hands the phone over to me. In one succinct sentence, I tell her the new plan, which is for her to drive over and pick us up. Mom and I will crash their place and visit them for a while, before we decide where to go for lunch. I am not asking for opinions. I am not asking for preferences. I am giving out decisions. Mom knew what she wanted to do all along, yet she is unwilling to impose her decision. She passively inquires and hopes for an affirmation of her wishes instead. I have no such concerns over my public imagery, unapologetically assert my will, and get the world moving along. There would be no progress if the world were pleased. Only the strongest of wills shape the reality of this world.
Fifth aunt soon picks mom and me from the restaurant and drives to her home. Dana, her older son and my cousin, is reviewing the updates on his Facebook. He is 12 years old and he has a Facebook account. What has this world come to? Dana adds me before we head out to a new restaurant. Our party includes fifth aunt, her mom, Dana, Crystal, her younger daughter and my cousin, my mom, and me. Moments later, we were at a new Chinese restaurant in the Brooklyn neighborhood, 86 Fu Kee, which recently relocated from Manhattan due to the lost of their lease. According to my recollection, the food was not good in their previous incarnation.
86 Fu Kee
2211 86th Street
Brooklyn, NY 11214
718.232.6083
I have a choice between waiting for hours at a massively crowded restaurant for dim sum, or try this new restaurant with a business card for lover and a limited crowd. The latter is more appealing at this stage, though there is still a wait at this busy restaurant. I overhear criticism that the food in Chinatown Manhattan is no longer any good, thereby decreasing the motivation of outer borough Chinese to bother visiting, whilst Chinatown Brooklyn and Chinatown Flushing are blossoming in row of good restaurants with higher quality food. This comment is not without basis. Chinatown Manhattan needs to up its game and regain its leadership position, as I must do the same with the oncoming year. I will prove to lover that I can change and improve, so much so that never again will my abilities be in the same comparable ranks as those pathetic normal people in her life.
After a good fifteen minute wait, we trek across slippery floors to a big table at the back of the restaurant. In such an indecisive and unvocal group, the duty of ordering food for the entire table falls upon my shoulders. I ask Dana, who sits next to me, what he likes to eat. His reply is a universally acceptable answer. Essentially anything is good with him, which I digest as telling me nothing at all. I thank him very much and continue my unchallenged tyranny.
The gimmick of choice at 86 Fu Kee is, if you order $30 or more, your table will receive half a drunken chicken, free of charge. We easily meet their prerequisite and receive this dish as our starter. Drunken chicken is a cold dish of chicken previously braised in rice wine, and then refrigerated overnight before serving. Dana and I are not into this, but I know lover is a fan of this, especially the homemade version by her parents, or more specifically, her dad.
At a neighboring table, I see a trio order their food, wherein the waiter kindly offers this free plate of half a drunken chicken. The three of them facially responded with a disgusted look, as if the restaurant is forcing them to eat more than they will pay for. To which, the waiter said that if they did not want free food, the three of them were not obliged to accept either. In the end, the half a drunken chicken remained at their table.
The strongest request from my cousins was for a beef, squid, and pork combination congee. To appease the children, our table had a bowl of this thick concoction, with a rich amount of ingredients below its surface, and a sprinkle of salted peanuts and scallion floating on top. Both Dana and Crystal like this. It is good that the under aged patrons are well fed. I taste some spoonfuls of this congee too. It is good.
To see the true kung fu of the chefs, I order a half and half platter of barbeque pork and roast pork. Dana loves the roast pork here, so he gobbles enough slices to satisfy his craving, and then applies dietary consciousness in saving enough rooms for the dishes to come. I taste a few slices myself, and this is some delicious barbeque pork. I cannot think of a trustworthy alternative restaurant where I can consistently get better. I will have to let lover know about this place, so she can eat masterful renditions of one of her favorite foods too!
As for the roast pork, the skin is mightily crunchy and crispy, just as I like it, accompanied by lean meat. It is good food as well, but not as much of a sure winner as the roast pork, which is why the attention spread is lopsided. This might as well be true on my love life, whereby all the girls that revolve around me are good and have nothing wrong to them, but my heart no longer has space because I have found my focus on the one, lover. Then again, if a girl is beautiful enough, she should be able to steal my away my attention under the most intense of competitions. I am that shallow.
I order the Fu Kee Small Pan-Fried Assortment in hopes that it may be the palate pleaser of mom, but this is the only disappointing dish. Mom complains about the vegetables having ripened beyond its optimal edible age. I taste the mix and I am fine with it, though Dana does not like this either.
The bean curd skin and lamb casserole is a favorite between mom and fifth aunt’s mom. The two women likes this dish, as eating lamb warms the body during freezing cold winter months, and it supposedly is good for your health in other ways too. I only eat the bean curd skins, as I never preferred Chinese lamb unless they are for hot pot. Grilled lamb chops or Halal lamb is better on my taste buds.
The fried rice and noodles do look appetizing, as I steal glances at the food on the other tables in the room, but my choice today is seafood pan-fried noodles with gravy. This type of noodles is the least likely mimicked in home kitchens, so I want it while I am at a restaurant. Dana and Crystal like the golden crispiness of the pan-fried noodles, as do I. The scattered pieces of shrimp, scallops, squids, and mock crabmeat go untouched by the children, but they are fresh and nicely prepared too. However, I largely ignore them too, because I have my next dish to consider.
Jumbo shrimps with walnuts are one of my favorite classical Cantonese dishes. These deep fried jumbo shrimps have a coating of special creamy sauce, which is mostly mayonnaise, under a bed of broccoli, and surrounded by walnuts. The jumbo shrimps are wonderfully chewy, and are a good enhancement to my previous pan-fried noodles. To my surprise, Dana brushes away the jumbo shrimps, and eats the broccoli. He does not like shrimps or lobsters, but he does like crabs. If only such information would come beforehand! Dana officially takes back his earlier statement on eating anything. He does not eat many things, including the majority of what is seafood. Dana is a carnivore for red meat!
We had more food than we could possibly finish, but I verbally observed how every other table has a lobster dish. Fifth aunt reveals that this is the restaurant specialty, costing $9.95 for a dish with two lobsters. It is practically a steal, which acts as a loss leader for 86 Fu Kee. This draws a sustainable flow of paying customers, while every table orders two unprofitable lobsters, along with other dishes that do generate the financial returns.
I can do without participating in this deal, but mom becomes obsessive over the lobsters, because they are cheaper than buying the ingredients back to cook at home. We order the special lobster dish with ginger and scallion. It shocks the entire table when our two lobsters came fully cooked the next thirty seconds later. The restaurant knew to prepare these ahead of time, as the smart businessmen know that the lobsters will sell. Even though these lobsters are small ones, there is a good amount of meat to them regardless. However, mom notes that other tables have chunkier lobsters.
86 Fu Kee is definitely a fantastic addition to the restaurant scene in Chinatown Brooklyn. Finally, a place can offer some good Cantonese cooking. The Chinese food classics are exciting and enjoyable once again here, rather than dull and unworthy of news at other Cantonese restaurants.
Food: C
Drinks: N/A
Dessert: N/A
Ambiance: D
Final: C-
Crystal has been indifferent towards me the entire day, that is, until after lunch, when we went to the local CVS and I buy her ice cream and a toy car. Suddenly, she pushes away everyone else to hold hands with me. I am her new best friend, as the benefits derived from my deed sticks for the moment. In a rather ironic switch of roles, lover always preaches me on response. It seems as long as I can get people to respond to me, I can do whatever I want, at a disregard to ethical standpoints. Lover will find how Crystal responded as adorable, as do I. I can imagine her sugary sweet smile now. Yet in the world of adults, I do not want people to respond to me through such means. I do not want to bribe my way into the heart of another. I want to touch people with my sincerity, and move their hearts with my realness, as I am doing with lover. Yes, the smart and greedily practical softrice can be an absolute, naive fool.
Fifth aunt takes us next to American Place, where she and my mom can shop for discount clothing. I babysit the two children as they do so. Crystal finds a gumball machine, gets a quarter from her mom to roll a gumball down, and decides she wants another one. After some crying and screaming, she gets another quarter and her second gumball. Crystal chews on her first gumball, spits the final product on my hand, and decides I can have the second gumball. Now that she has possessed it, the need to have a second gumball fades away from existence.
I buy Crystal a bottle of Sprite to sit down and drink, wherein she makes me pour her portioned sips on the cap, before repeating my services again, and again, until the bottle is finished. Crystal advertises for the Coca Cola Company and lets me know this is good stuff. Spilling was bound to happen, and droplets fall upon her gold princess dress a few times. I point to the dirtied spots in an effort to educate her on why I was right, and she should drink directly from the bottle rather than pour it and sip from the cap. Crystal transforms into an adult and assures me, “It’s okay.” Relax.
A fun family day ends and I return to Manhattan with mom in an inter-Chinatown van. We were the only two passengers again. The van operators surely need an improved business plan soon, because such inefficient operating procedures greatly increases gasoline costs, unnecessarily so too. I shop for groceries with mom, for our family Christmas dinner tonight, and come home to a new network of cousins added as friends on Facebook. Lover help me, either I am spelling my pending doom, or I have evolving to a new cast of supporting characters in my antisocial life.
Always in a puff of smoke,
softrice
Mad for Chicken
[December 4, 2009]
Dear softrice fan:
Before anything else I have planned for the night, I watch TVB’s 42nd Anniversary TV Awards Ceremony 2009, lest the results become yesterday’s news with the arrival of tomorrow. Both Wayne Lai and Sheren Tang won the best actor and best actress awards for their awesome performances in Rosy Business. I am confident, to receive standing ovations from colleagues and public recognition from audiences for your work, is far more meaningful than what a tangible award is worth. On the other hand, I need partners and supporters that will stage protests on my behalf, if owners of my achievements were not to recognize them as deserves.
After the awards ceremony, I return a missed call to Yun. I planned to be fashionably late, but I did not know she would join me. Yun was on her way, by taxi, while I was still home, yet to neither change nor start walking towards our destination tonight. Other than celebrating a birthday, Yun is crashing the party to take more pictures with softrice. She called to update me on her progress, confirm my attendance, and agree to meet there. I was actually surprised that Yun would call me, instead of the birthday boy or the party planner. I take delight in being her connection point.
On my walk to 22 Warren Street, a crazy Caucasian man heading towards Chatham Square was yelling that all Chinese are homos. He sought my confirmation, and I returned him a trademark smile. We departed in opposite directions, as clearly the two of us were on divergent paths. He can say anything he wants, for it will neither shake my confidence nor alter the truth. He is merely a loser that will not even merit existence in the minds of the Chinese world. The donut is worth a mention only to display the steadfastness of my resolve.
I must have walked pass Club Brick countless times and never noticed it. The bouncer politely checked my ID against his guest list. I have no idea what Karina put the party name under if not Eddy’s birthday or her name. The bouncer searched for a moment more and then said it did not matter. I looked good enough to upgrade the class of the scene tonight, so I moved beyond the velvet rope while others waited, and followed the stairway downstairs to the basement.
Entry fee is $20, and coat check is another $2. The girl guarding the door marked “X” on my right hand with a red market, and the coat check girl marked “89″ next to it in black in for my jacket. This is some ugly way to tell that I have paid. I prefer a catchy stamp that associates with the club, but obliviously management never made such an investment on brand design.
I envisioned that Karina had booked out the club or a significant portion of it for our party tonight. I scan the scene and it was packed, but those attending for Eddy were an itsy bitsy portion of it, entrapped in front of the bar. Traffic did not move and we all stood there, waiting for our turn to get drinks. This wheel did not turn fast enough the entire night, as no one had enough intake of alcohol to come close to being drunk.
Yun appears a few moments later, as she went back home to change first, before coming to see softrice. As we danced, I let her know that I agree with her earlier conclusion. She came to Club Brick before, and left with a previous judgment. It shall remain the same after tonight. This place is weak. I miss Level V.
I have no idea what story I can share with lover from a nightclub. This was Eddy’s 23rd birthday celebration party, and there was drinking and dancing, though not much of either. Nothing particularly stood out as interesting to write, other than another party showering alcohol on us, unintentionally, and a member of our group, Victor, almost started a fight with them. Emotional conflicts are my norm. On the one hand, a fight would mean something different I can tell lover about tonight. Yet on the other hand, I cannot ensure the safety of all the young guns then. In situations like these, I go by what lover would want, so I sent Eddy about crowd control and that dispersed the minor conflict.
For over an hour, Eddy encouraged everyone to get up and dance, because it was purportedly the last song. However, an additional last song followed the last song that just ended, which continued until we were all ready to leave, near 3:00 AM. At this point, the club had its water pipes leaking into a concerning problem, other than the occasional spilled cups of alcohol or emptied glass beer bottles.
In a group discussion on the streets, we decided to grab some food before calling it a night. Two members, a down low couple that were both coworkers with Eddy, suggested the Great NY Noodletown. This was a boring suggestion that would attract no interest to lover, so I swung the votes in favor of Bon Chon. Blackberry users punched in the name of the place, after I spelled it for those uninitiated in the New York restaurant scene, and could not find a unifying address. I faintly recall that the restaurant changed its name to something else, but did not produce its current alias. This means the new name sucks, if customers have no cognitive recognition of it.
We all agreed to meet at 32nd Street and 5th Avenue. The restaurant should be around there, according to group consensus. We divided into different groups, with separate rides uptown. I went with Ben, but as we got into the car, his attention focused on a group of young blondes of the female sex that just came out of Club Brick. Their dresses barely hugged their asses. At least he finishes enjoying his sight before igniting the car. Otherwise, we would have been practicing distracted driving.
Ben and I were the first to arrive. The second group parked right behind us and were getting ready to pay the meter, but Ben stopped them and said it was unnecessary. Ben offered his advice because he played the role of a fellow driver, and did not even realize we were part of the same group until a moment later. My handsomeness was the unifying point between the two groups of people. The second group led us to where the restaurant is.
Mad for Chicken
314 5th Avenue, 2nd Floor
New York, NY 10001
212.221.2222
http://madforchicken.com/
Mad for Chicken hides within the second floor of an undistinguished building, with no blatant signage to inform possibly interested patrons that they were here. I suppose a steady flow of new customers is not one of their concerns. Stationed on the ground floor is s Middle Eastern security guard. He checked our IDs for underage children, because New York State law requires you to be 21 before you can eat fried chicken nowadays. The majority of the population just missed this memo.
One of us went upstairs to talk with the manager, while we wanted to call and warn Eddy. His group had another underage girl too. However, I discover that only one of us actually had his number to call him. I must have been under the false pretense that these were his friends all this time.
Management barks from the second floor and inform our vigilant security guard that we were okay to proceed. I wanted to grab two business cards from the front desk, but another idiotic patron was blocking my reach. A super cute and smart Korean waitress pushes the whole lot out for me. I thanked her with a warm smile and took what I desired. One advice on their logo is to trash it and come up with something different, preferably chicken related. Currently, it is a string figure of a cartoon boy, whose relevance to Korean fried chicken escapes me. UFC does better in this department.
Eddy and his crew arrive much later, but our group of 11 was now complete. Eddy pretends to be drunk for the duration of the entire night, but I doubt he is even winged. Karina is convinced that he is gone, and the others enjoy his random acts of tipsy foolishness, but I do not buy into his act. I keep slapping his face and tell him to stop acting. He made constant motions to attract attention from our Korean waitress, not for food because we had ordered already, but because he found her cute. I slapped his hands from making such motions and informed our waitress to ignore him, claiming that he is drunk, even though I did not believe in this. If Eddy were drunk, how would he be able to make the same observation as I did, and noticed that our waitress was delightfully cute?
The cute Korean waitress ignores a reportedly drunken Eddy and turns her full attention to my needs. I realize, for Eddy, that it must be depressing to be with me. I steal away all the attention from the pretty girls, like now. I asked my cute Korean waitress to get us rounds of Liquid Cocaine, and she happily obliged to my every beckoning. I liked her service, while the others took forever to get us even water, and after multiple requests too. The Liquid Cocaine came and we cheered to wish Eddy a happy birthday. A second round came, but Karina no longer allowed Eddy to drink any more alcohol. What a bummer. People should loosen up on celebratory occasions. I would surely take advantage of Eddy, but it would ultimately benefit him.
Our table shared two orders of Rosemary Fries. These were more like fried potato medallions, more than stringy fries, though there were some that came in the shape and size of steak frites. I could not taste the rosemary, but they were serviceable fries.
The eleven of us consumed one large order of fried chicken thighs and two large combination platters of mixed fried chicken pieces. Our fried chicken were made fresh from scratch, so the process took 20 minutes or so, which is not a terribly long or unendurable wait. I like knowing the cooks made our food on order.
The fried chicken comes out piping hot. One of us, not me, bit into a piece and burned his mouth. The trick is to first chew open the crispy soy and garlicky skin, let the heat release itself for a short while, and then bite into the meat when it has cooled down to edible temperatures. Korean fried chicken is some good comfort food to take in, especially after a night out at drinking, except we did not have enough alcohol consumption!
Karina did not fancy the Liquid Cocaine, so I got her a small order of Apple Soju. A small order was not that small, as this was enough for us to share shots all around the table. I do not encourage or tolerate drunk driving, but this was no different than drinking apple juice. The designated drivers on my section, Ben and Victor, were willing participants to join me in cheers and drinking all the alcohol I ordered. Besides, each order was another opportunity for the cute Korean waitress to talk with softrice again, so she enjoyed the honor as much as we enjoyed drinking.
When it was time to pay the bill, relationships became apparent that not everyone knew everyone here. There was no interaction across sections. We were in small fiefdoms of our own, whereby each group had enough known company to suffer through dinner with strangers for one beneficiary party, which is Eddy tonight. I clearly do not understand this need of normal people to socialize, when you really do not get or care to know more people, even though that is the famous excuse for all this. I do not understand how this is fun either, as it is not an effective usage of time to build enduring and lasting relationships, but Eddy, being the normal one, seems to have fun having this done, and thanks me for showing up, time and over again.
At other tables, I overhear some regulars initiating their guests into the art of Korean fried chicken. This would not be a first for my cute Korean waitress, as she attentively listens to their jabbering. She does not care, but maintains her polite smile. She wishes to finish taking their orders as quickly as possible, and then return to my presence, which she does for a few more turns, before we were ready to depart. Korean fried chicken is the same everywhere. Come here for the cute waitress instead.
Food: D+
Drinks: C
Dessert: N/A
Ambiance: C
Final: C-
Eddy continues his good show and puke on the street. I still say he is acting. Standing next to him on the empty streets, I tell him that he needs more friends. Out of the long list of Facebook friends invited to attend this party, 10 of us stayed until the very end, and only a handful or two came earlier to say happy birthday.
Eddy is a worldly personality. He bothers to seek out common interests with you, to be approachable and friendly. I only take care to be me, freeing others to either emphasize and come together, or leave as desired. My Russian and African coworkers like to throw parties, in the hundreds of attending guests. It is showing off and wasting money, to receive face, from acquaintances and strangers alike, but Eddy would like this. He is a normal person. I imagined this party to be along this line, yet it was far from it. Where were his friends, to this nice and humble person?
Lover says I am not smart in relationships. This is not because I cannot be smart in relationships. It is useless to be smart in relationships. Relationships among men are different. You are not effective from being generous, friendly, and sociable. This methodology will not forge lasting relationships. Men make friends from being successful. People will like you for as long as you are successful. This is unrighteous, but this is the way of the world. If you so readily accept what reality is and how normal people behave, then this will be your rule of living.
Being smart in relationships is an ineffective application of time. It is unnecessary as an art. In romance, if you are smart, then realize that you are not in love.
Valentine drives our group home. He drops me off in Chinatown. Before their departure, I tell those drivers to come out in public transportation next time, and we will have some good rounds of true drinking. They agree and look forward to that time. I get home by 5:00 AM.
If I ever decide to throw the grandest birthday party, how many people can I gather that will come support my cause? I wonder about the possibility, but its appeal remains lost on me. On top of which, I still do not understand I should conceal my extraordinariness in the pitiful disguise of a normal person. This year, as with the past decade, I only wish to celebrate my birthday with the love of my life, lover.
Always in a puff of smoke,
softrice
Novecento
[November 4, 2009]
Dear softrice fan:
My first encounter with West Broadway was when the videogame store on Canal Street moved there, years ago when I was still buying Super Nintendo games. I mapped out its location online, to identify familiar territory before I would venture out. Luckily, as always with the Prince of Heaven, it was only a couple of blocks west of the immigration office. My family was regular patrons of the McDonald’s across from it, so I knew my directions well.
The first time I was in the classier and livelier section of West Broadway by Soho was because of Angel. We went shopping for her H2O+ skincare essentials. Angel hardly ever puts on makeup, which is how I like my girls – Ones with natural beauty, so this need came up as a surprise, and the occasion has remained memorable. Whatever made her skin even smoother and elevated her heart to new heights of happiness, I supported.
I journey to West Broadway normally nowadays and I thoroughly enjoy the neighborhood vibe. When my new Argentinean girl friend, Maria, wanted to take me out to a restaurant serving her ethnic cuisine here, I was excited. Tonight would be my first time at an Argentinean restaurant, eating Argentinean food, drinking Argentinean wine, and accompanied by an Argentinean princess. To make the best of our time together, we booked the entire restaurant, Novecento, for ourselves. Hey, if you are going to dine out, you ought to dine out right.
Novecento
343 West Broadway
New York, NY 10013
212.925.4706
http://bistronovecento.com/myplace.php/
Malbec is the Argentinean wine, so Maria started our evening by introducing me to Terrazas de los Andes, a Reserva bottle of red wine from 2006. It was not a lightweight, but it was not heavy either. The wine was a compatible fit with our appetizers.
We started with Ceviche Con Tostones, a fish ceviche marinated in limejuice, jalapeno, peppers, avocado, cilantro, and tostones. Maria is a big fan of ceviche, so she fancied this choice. However, I thought all the components of the dish lacked interaction. They were each their own fiefdom, unable to rally together for a greater taste. The star of the dish was the ceviche, which were cooled cubes of white fish with a texture similar to gummy bears. The avocado and tostones were simply sliced and plated separately on the dish. What could have been a colorful combination became a dish divided, and fallen from my grace.
A better appetizer was the Chorizo. This distinctive Argentinean sausage was a mix of pork and beef, served grilled, and comes along with chimichurri sauce, bread, and salad, on the side. I could have eaten it like any sausage, but Maria taught me how to eat the chorizo in a culturally correct way. I would first slice the sausage in half, to have a manageable portion, and then cut it open down the middle. This would allow the chimichurri sauce to sink inside of it. The product is ultimately clapped between two loafs of toasted bread, and gobbled completely like an American hotdog, except this was an Argentinean chorizo. The different methods of eating this do not change its taste. Just enjoy your different hotdog.
The Cheese Plate was a variation of four cheeses served with a homemade jam and candied cashews, with a side of prosciutto. The cheeses came conveniently in sampling portions, but its taste was not particularly outstanding or representative of its culture. Maria liked the candied cashews and greedily ate them like a little girl back from trick or treat with her candied sweets. They were great snacks to munch on, and readily stole the show from the dairy products.
Empanadas are a famous Argentinean appetizer, so this was a candidate deserving a trial with my taste buds. These are Argentinean dumplings, with its skin made from yellow, crispy pastry puffs, instead of a crystal skin of flour and dough as the Chinese makes theirs. Maria does not eat red meat, very much like lover, so she had one chicken empanada and one spinach and cheese empanada. I had two hand carved beef empanadas. Fresh chunks of meat and vegetables were waiting inside each empanada, and I ponder on the necessity of the skin wrapping. I would gladly just eat the meat and forgo the pastry puff layer of skin that held everything together. Sometimes being a hot mess is better than cocooning within a neat and presentable lifeless packaging.
Maria did not have an entree, but fitted another appetizer salad in her compact stomach. I soldiered on to conquer the prize of Argentinean cuisine, which were their red meats! I tried their Stracetti. Three pan seared fillet mignons were stacked on top of a bed of sautéed spinach, with roast potatoes that were more like steak frites circling around the meat, and covered with swirls of balsamic glaze. The meat was soft and melts in your mouth, but comes out sweet more than savory, perhaps due to the glaze. This was edible food, to be sure. However, I could not understand how the reputation of a nation founded itself on such mediocre cooking. My father can do better. I can do better.
I ordered my steak A Caballo, which I thought were two fried eggs on top of my fillet mignons, just like how my father makes it at home when he is in the mood. Yet these came on the side, by itself. It looks like I ordered two fried eggs, which was the whole dish. Can something be so simple at a credible restaurant? Would a diner even serve something so audaciously plain? I enthusiastically broke the yokes and dipped my steaks into them. I was supposedly dining at an Argentinean restaurant, but I felt like I was eating at home, without the luxuries of family comforts and my Born Rich and Beyond the Realm of Conscience!
Maria and I moved on to our second bottle of red wine. I was reviewing the wine menu to make a more expensive selection, but before I could announce my choice, the waitress recommended the Chalten. This is another Malbec, also a Reserva, and only a dollar more than our previous bottle. I agreed to this bottle, and the waitress promptly brought it over. This was certainly stronger and went agreeably better with food of substance, such as my steak.
People around the world crave Argentinean food for their steaks, but I was more looking forward to their desserts, or more specifically, their ice cream. Maria has been telling me all about it being different from the typical American ones. Argentinean ice cream is reportedly softer.
I am vastly more interested in discovering new and better desserts, because dessert dates are more of thing between lover and me. Of course, a perfect meal all the way through is ideal, but I place greater emphasis on dessert more than the other courses. After all, dessert is the comparable equivalent of love, and I do love lover like no other!
The Panqueques con Dulce de Leche is the crown dessert at Novecento, so Maria and I had just that. It is Argentinean crepes with vanilla ice cream, whip cream, and half a strawberry. Skip the whip cream and strawberry, but the crepes are wonderfully delicious! Yet it is also immensely heavy, so regardless of how amazing the dessert itself was, neither of us could finish it.
On the topic of crepes, Maria retold me about her obsession with the crepes from Montmarte, which is her favorite district in Paris. Maria was curious if I had them there, and additionally confides to me that she actually does not like nutella in her crepes. Nutella is what makes a crepe authentic! My favorite crepe was with lover at AOC Bedford, where the waiter made it by our tableside with a roaring flame. I would love to return to Paris with lover and taste better crepes with her there!
One disappointment from the dessert was the ice cream. Maria tasted a scoop and said this was Haagen-Dazs material, and not truly the wonderful flavors that should have been brought over from her home country. I am missing out!
Sad to see me sad, Maria invites me to fly over to Argentina and stay with her and her family, for vacation this winter and possibly to celebrate the New Year together. There is no greater company than softrice, but I was thinking more in terms of dropping by her hometown for a weekend, if I get a chance to go to Brazil with Maria next year. As I consider my options and leave all my doors open, I wonder if lover knows how hospitable my current relationships have advanced, or is she still stuck in the past on how my friendships were.
Food: D
Drinks: D+
Dessert: C
Ambiance: D
Final: D
Near the end of our evening, we released the restaurant to other interested guests. The dining room quickly filled up, but I noticed the bar was the first to do so. Moments later, a screen in the back of the room dropped down, and started to play the Yankees versus Phillies baseball game. Maria is a Yankees fan. When we were leaving, her team was leading. Many people feel that knowing baseball is what makes a true American, and Maria jokingly says that she has assimilated as such. Perhaps my disinterest in sports is due to my lack of aspiration to be normal throughout my upbringing.
My night shared with Maria tonight has taught me that Argentinean steaks are no differently prepared from most other typical steakhouses. They are not culturally different, but cooked in more than one way, such as how we communicate our feelings. There may not only be one way to love, but there is only one person to love. I only love lover, and I promise her this: I will eat well, sleep well, and love you incredibly well.
Always in a puff of smoke,
softrice
Delicatessen
[October 25, 2009]
Dear softrice fan:
Early in the afternoon, Honey came to my home to pick me up. We walked towards Pace University and noticed tourists snapping away at the changing colors of the leaves. I am currently nursing a new poem I wish to write, which is tentatively titled A Thousand Autumns, but my poems are always work in progresses. I never get around to writing them. If I do get a chance to write it, I mentally note that a photo of similar falling autumn leaves would make a great companion.
As we walked towards our destination, Honey voiced her ignorance of why I treated lover so well. This is a huge misconception. Our relationship is not unilateral. Lover is super good to me too, except her way of being good to me may not be as obvious to those around me. My buddies will see the physical manifestations of how I am good to her, such as my writings, cards or gifts, but truly caring for someone is being thoughtful, considerate, and insightful towards that person. In this respect, lover is the best to me. I am beyond doubt that once people get to know her, everyone will agree that she is the best person in the world.
We arrive before the security desk of the university and I attempt to sign Honey in with me. The stringent guard informed me that the sticker on my alumni card had expired. This time, he was willing to sign her in nonetheless, but said I would require a new sticker from the alumni office. Honey does not have an active alumni card, as she works and will be unable to visit their office on normal weekday hours. As we intend on future sessions here, Honey and I decided that I would be sick tomorrow and take off work to get the sticker.
Honey is lazy, so instead of taking the stairs as I usually would, we took the elevator up to the first floor, and then walked up the stairway of the library to the second floor. We walked pass the row of study cubicles, which Angel and I frequently used back during our college days, though we normally studied other things instead of our textbooks while being in that tight space together. I miss my earlier college days and my old friends. Though the people and the environment have not changed, our heartfelt sceneries will never be the same again.
Honey and I moved on pass the open tables or populated quiet study rooms (which are never quiet anyway). We sat in quaint little corner on the far end of the North West wing, and quickly immersed ourselves in a world of two. I joyously reviewed the postcard Honey got me in Shanghai. She intended to mail it to me, but she had the wrong street number and an incorrect zip code. Luckily, Honey was smart enough to write her return address, so it was not lost in the mail.
I did not know what message to expect, but she only wrote of her compliant towards the pollution in Shanghai. A note to my fans, this is a reverse demonstration of what not to write from the wonders of a vacation. It is an underwhelming experience.
I quickly moved on to the professional photo album Honey took in Fujian, which is where lover descends me. I am from Sun Wei, a province nearby Toishan, for the uninitiated. The album was thick and heavy, which misled me to believe that I had plenty of pictures to see. However, the interior was composed of thick cardboard pages, so there were only a handful of pictures to see. Nearly all of these, I had even seen already on Facebook via scanned copies. Additionally, the album cover was made of crystallized glass, so you can alternatively use this as a weapon and smash someone in the head with it. This would be its redemptive quality.
I commented that Honey looked like Miriam in the pictures, but she said others say she looks like Sammi. I suppose there are similar facial features. Regardless, I am glad Honey achieved her main goal in going to China. I would have other objectives, such as sightseeing, but this was her thing. However, I dislike how Chinese products are grandiose in accumulating high expectations, yet fail to deliver in substance and excel in value. This is where their market would have to improve upon to rid Westerners of their discriminatory conception of products made in China.
After our two entertainment escapes were finished, Honey and I went about drawing greeting card designs for two hours. We completed 15% to the first part of our portfolio. Laziness sank in, and I instantaneously accepted the proposal to stop for the day, go visit the High Line, see Astro Boy, and have an oily dinner. Honey went to her grandmother’s home to pick up her home keys, as her parents were there playing mahjong with their elder, while I went home to drop off my sketchbook.
We agreed to meet up at the F train station on East Broadway, so I waited in front of the bakery. To my right, there was Century Pharmacy. I remember coming with Angel to buy her Physique shampoo here. She was fussy in regards to her cleanliness, and she preferred this brand. Further along the street was Broadway East. I noticed the waitress swiping wine glasses through their window, and I remember dining at the establishment with Lily. My favorite recollection from this street corner is waiting in front of Seward Park Library to pick lover off tutoring a little kid nearby. Fortune is as simple as this – Waiting, remembering, and cherishing. Big achievements build up our reputations, but it is in the details that we truly live among happiness.
Honey called to meet me at another entrance. We found each other and took the F train to 23rd Street. I thought the first section of the High Line had already opened up to here, but progress has not reached to this point yet. Honey and I had to trace our steps backward and head towards downtown.
The topic of interest today for Honey was my relationship problems. We stumped upon my breakup with Lily. The main reason I attribute to the termination of that relationship is that she wanted to be a friend, but I insist on softrice not having friends. You can title our relationship anything you want, but I reject the label of friendship. In actuality, yes, it is a friendship, and yes, I do have what normal people call friends, but no, I will not officially allow friendship to exist in my life. It is like China. I never did understood why it is a capitalist market, yet continuously insist on being communist, but now my situation is comparatively the same. I do not have friends.
Honey was a bit uneasy with this conclusion, as she knows that we simply do not talk about our relationship. Leave it as ambiguous and we may continue. Confront it, and unless you have an alternative exit, we will break apart. I do not know how comfortable Honey is with this, but I explain why I need it as such. Ultimately, lover will look at my relationships, point and say, “Hey, if she can do this, I can too.” I cannot allow Lily to establish a bad precedent.
You can say, any relationship that will develop to hurt mine with lover, I will preventatively destroy. Yet you cannot say I frame all my relationships with that of mine with lover in mind, because the cause of my break with Lily is also because she is unappreciative and disrespectful towards our relationship. I later found out why she suddenly changed and was so adamant on having us under as friends. I also realized how willing she was to see people I hate as long as she is happy about doing so. I can accept selfishness, but I will not accept disloyalty.
Honey wonders if it is a shame to lose such a good friend in such a way. It is not as if I had a choice. I know very well, if something were to happen to me now, other than lover, Lily would care for me the most. Though she may not intentionally hurt me in her acts, Lily has already shown a willing disregard to my happiness so long as it satisfies her social needs. Even if I were able to accept this, I explain to Honey, were you to put me back into the relationship, with the rules now being that I too can be selfish and unintentionally, albeit knowingly, hurt those I care for in order to get what I want, it will not be a good thing.
I can win. I can be a ruthless, manipulative opportunist and only gain from such a relationship. Yet I will not be happy. All meaning would be void.
Honey understands why winning is not happiness. She can relate to my loss. Yet she would never take such a strong stance. Honey is a normal person.
I am made of pride. I am proud of all my relationships. If you cannot be proud of being with me, then there is no point in accompanying one another. When someone uses friendship as an incarceration, then there is nothing left to pursue in the relationship. With no more to do and none to improve, what else is the meaning of my stay? I chose to leave.
On to the topic of another friend, Honey was surprised that I knew Julie. I know everyone. Julie was another classmate of hers. The difference between Julie and Jeanie is that I too was classmates with Julie, except we were so in Chinese School. Honey received an ego boost when I said that there was no way I saw Julie as much as I did her. I only had dinner with Julie once, at Shang, after having not seen each other for the longest of time.
Honey knew of my relationship with Julie through my Facebook album. I translated the album title to Honey, which meant A Lifetime of Fortune. I was inspired to be less stubborn, after hearing Linda Chung tells the story about the Ninety Nine Tribe. Then I recreated my entire profile, with the addition of my photo album.
I retold Honey the story. It is a half glass of water story, to which Honey confessed to be a glass half-empty person. She also admits to be a stubborn person too.
I am trying so very hard to be less stubborn, but I am also failing miserably so. People will do messed up things, to which I have to stubborn take a stance. I cannot stand idly about to allow its existence and strengthen a crowd of indifference. I have to inspire difference.
Honey liked the moral of the Linda Chung story, but she also agrees that there are things we have to remain stubborn about them. This gives us our beliefs and principles. This gives us our uncompromising identity to carry the burden of the skies and stand our feet on the ground. Lesser things we can let go of, but what we are stubborn about makes us whom we are.
We found the end entrance to the High Line and climbed up its silvery stairs. I busily admired how long the current High Line is, and how much more it has to go. Honey adored the Empire State Building in the skyline of signature New York buildings surrounding us, and requested pictures of it and with it, as if she had never seen the building in the background before.
I fancied the newer buildings, and Honey favored the rainbow building from my bunch. She pointed to the top floor and said she wanted a condominium there. I supported her to work towards that goal. Lover and I will afford the world one day. Honey and I are currently laboring to make that day come sooner rather than later.
I read quite a lot about the High Line when it was a work in progress, but I could not remember any of the details to answer Honey’s questions. She was interested in what trains used these railroad tracks back in the brave days of old New York. Honey says their design is unique, though there were not enough flowers, for grass populated most of the landmark. We suppose it will be prettier during the spring and summer seasons, so it is worth future revisits.
We continued onto greener pastures, as the most interesting sections of the High Line seemed to be in its beginning sections. There was a miniature amphitheater in the middle, where Honey and I took turns posing for some quick snapshots. I preferred the front segment, where the area glowed in a blue aura due to its specialized lighting effects. Lover would love this! She likes lights, for the millionth time.
Before the blue area was wooden benches, in which people can sit or sleep on. I told Honey to cancel the venue for the birthday party that she was planning, and have all of her friends come party here. You could sit and relax, enjoy the cool breeze and take in all the fresh outdoor air, eat, drink, dance, and enjoy the night out on a landmark.
Honey and I sure did have a nice and romantic walk here, a serene stroll along the park in the sky. By the time we had reached the end, the sun was setting, as we were under the blue area. This was a fantastic combination of ambiance with impeccable timing, and we did not even plan any of this!
What did suck is that we missed the show time for Astro Boy, even though we rushed back by taking the cross town bus back to Union Square. During our attempt, I shared with Honey the story of how I discovered the High Line. This was before I caught the travel bug and had the opportunity to fly all around the world. Lover cherishes things that are different and a first to her, so I went along this theme in trying to find activities for us to do in New York City. A park in the sky, for us to take romantic strolls along, fitted in my plans perfectly.
Honey felt guilty that she stole this opportunity from lover. As I said, this was before the world became my new playground. There are more and better options available now. I also have to get over this first experience thing, because I do not want to save ideas. I want them done with. I need freed intellectual capacity to think of greater and grander ideas of the new.
Lover bit me with the love bug first, then the travel bug, and now the success bug. I do not know why everyone says I am smart, including lover. I am not a genius. I cannot build cars that take you from one city to another. I cannot build planes that can fly you from one continent to another. I cannot shot satellites into space that will speed across the stars from one planet to another. However, I have learned that success is not only my own making. Success is also recognition and acceptance of those affected by my say. If lover wants me to get people to respond to me, then I will make the world respond to me!
Whoever said obsession is not a good thing must have been a loser. How is one supposed to become good at one thing if he or she is not living in every moment of it? Power is in obsession. It is only when you lose control over your power, do you run your fire into a demonic rage. As long as you can control and focus your obsession, it will be your strongest source of power towards achieving your purpose. My obsession is healthy. Knowing to bring Honey to the High Line for her first walk along a park in the sky is evidence of my absolute truth.
Eating around New York and sharing these stories with lover through softrice is another healthy obsession. Now that Honey and I gave up on our movie plan, we casually paced our steps downtown, from Union Square to Nolita, along Broadway Street. We passed by Two Boots, to which Honey passed on the rumor that they served some good pizza. I once heard this claim from Victoria too, so it deserves a place on my mental list of future places to visit.
Honey had been craving a burger all day. She needs some oil in her stomach. A burger at the planned Shake Shack in Nolita would have been perfect, but the restaurant group has yet to build it, much less have it operational and ready to serve us tonight. With my aforementioned ruthless opportunist characteristic shining through, I convinced Honey to have some greasy comfort food with me at a restaurant I had been interested in visiting since it opened.
Delicatessen
54 Prince Street
New York, NY 10012
212.226.0002
http://delicatessennyc.com/
I heard Delicatessen was a restaurant for hipsters and models, but both were lacking on this night. I also heard that the neighbors were unhappy with the establishment, even going as far as the peeing rebellion. Surprisingly enough, many of my fellow diners seemed like locals, bringing out their families for a night of international comfort food. Delicatessen really does feel like a neighborly destination.
Nolita is an awesome neighborhood, which houses some of the prettiest girls in the world. (Lover lives in Nolita, or used to, anyway.) My favorite business is the bookstore next door, McNally Jackson. They carry a diverse line of premium greeting cards, which I why I frequent the place, to get lover the latest and most creatively distinguished ones. If you are in need of a slick greeting card, try here.
After we ordered, I went to the restroom. It blends in with the environment. This was a huge singular bathroom. It was roomy, clean, and modernly chic. A strip of the wall is a collection of photographs, all of which sports models in various poses calling for your attention. They are similar to the ones on their menus.
Upon returning to the table, Honey engaged me in a conversation about secret societies. She additionally soaked up my insights on prostitution, focused on Chinatown, but branched out to other regions of the world. International Business was a required course for business majors at Pace University after all.
Honey had grown up in Brooklyn. Fortunately, she was never been exposed to these eclectic subgroups of our society. Honey had only heard of them from her siblings, as their upbringing crossed paths with these worlds. I was her ambassador now, and narrated an introduction to these hidden businesses, unseen with the common eye.
Honey was in disbelief that prostitution exists in Chinatown and in Hong Kong. She wondered why she had not seen any of these working professionals, as she goes about her daily life in the neighborhood, or when she went overseas for vacation. I suggested maybe that they are not for her to see, or maybe because they were normal people with normal lives that dressed normally too. That is, except when they were undressed for work, which should be behind closed doors and away from public, wandering eyes such as Honey’s interested pair.
I believe the most interesting story, because of its relevance, is when I shared the same elevator with a prostitute in Budapest. Honey questioned how I knew. Now the one I saw in the elevator was suggestively dressed as so, and you could simply tell by her demeanor. I usually emphasis that she was rushing to the customer that time too, because I overheard her cursing to herself that she was running later than expected. Some people have urgent needs and work on a tight schedule, you know. I share how visible prostitutes are on Hungarian evenings too. If Honey had came to Budapest with me, she could have cured her curiosity by sighting them on the streets, though some were more deadly connected than others whom were merely out to make an honest living.
I continued our verbal travel around the world by telling Honey how cheap and accessible these professionals were in different regions. They can be as cheap as a dollar in less fortunate environments, such as those in South America, Africa, or India, other than Eastern Europe. It can be inexpensive in New York too, though products vary as is with all things. One could pay astronomical prices for premium products, if so desired.
I suggested to Honey, if she really was interested in seeing one, she could always hire a prostitute, to see and talk with. Then their world would become real to hers. I do not believe Honey will take heed to my brilliant advice.
Our drinks come, filled with ice, again. Honey had a Strawberry Sour. The glass with filled with ice cubes rather than alcohol. The drink tasted, unsurprisingly, as it appeared, that of ice.
I had a Joie De VeeV, which supposedly has acai spirit in it. Honey raved about the acai, though her excitement seemingly came from rumored knowledge of the fruit, and not her firsthand experience with it. She says it helps you lose weight and is good for your body.
I am a big fan of acai products, especially the Bolthouse Farms Bom Dia drinks from Whole Foods. I drink it all the time and I can refute the claim that it helps you lose weight. I read and know about their supposed health benefits, but I cannot attest if those claims are true too. Disregarding all its reported benefits, it is still a tasty drink. Honey is missing out, and I will surely get her some to try on our next opportune visit to Whole Foods.
A sheet of ice covered my Joie De VeeV, as if it was a winter pond in nearly freezing temperatures. As I drank throughout our meal, I tasted greater amounts of the ice, rather than the drink itself. I thought Delicatessen was reputation for their drinks. Our experience tonight tells us another story.
The food is far more comforting than their drinks. Our kind waitress said that we ordered her two favorite appetizers. I wondered in my head what her least favorite appetizers were. It is my abnormal brain functioning normally against normal people.
My choice of appetizer was their famous Cheeseburger Spring Rolls, which came accompanied with ketchup and mustard on the side. A few bites into this, and I understand why the Chinese never made their spring rolls with beef. The ingredients are not a winning combination, as the spring roll skin simply did not seem to know the minced beef, while the cheese was there without its taste. Honey suggested that I dip the roll into the ketchup and mustard, which provided a taste to the rolls, but I do not want to go to a restaurant and pay premium prices to taste supermarket condiments. The two of us fancied the little pickles that came with the rolls, which were cute to look at on top of being tasteful.
Honey chose the Baked Mac & Cheese, which is macaroni baked with three kinds of cheese, including cheddar, American, and Swiss. This was extremely good! I originally thought this would be heavy, but now I know better. Well-prepared Mac & Cheese should not taste heavy at all!
I used to crave Mac & Cheese. They were great elementary school lunches. I even made them at home, buying the instant ones from the local American supermarkets. Honey says those may be good, but not as good as the ones we were having, because having Mac & Cheese baked makes a great cover on top, along with its crusty edges that both of us liked.
On eating, there is greater happiness found in seeing your companion enjoying their food, than to simply eat good food yourself. It is a source of pride, whether you cooked the meal, or merely are introducing your friend to good food somewhere else. I wish every dinner date could be the best meal lover ever had. If only.
For entrees, Honey aligned with the comfort food theme and had the Pan Roasted Atlantic Salmon, which came with snap peas and a carrot sauce. I told Honey that if she wanted, I could have made that dish for her. I can cook salmon with a bigger piece of meat from the Chinatown fish markets, accompanied by a bed of the same or more colorful vegetables. The only item I would have problems recreating was the carrot sauce.
Honey discussed how salmon fillets came boneless in American supermarkets, while the Chinese ones seem to retain bits of its bone. I explained the difference in cultural mentalities, as Americans do not like bones, while the Chinese would equate a higher grade of deliciousness towards the softer meat by the bones. My American part pops up here, as I like boneless fillets to avoid the hassle of picking out the bones as I am eating.
I have another promotion of Whole Foods in regards to salmon. If you are a fan of this fish, you have to try its supreme variety, which would be the Copper River Salmon. I have been to Seattle during its peak season, and the locals rave about it. After you have tried this premium variety, you cannot go back. Any other variety is inferior. It may not be as fresh as eaten in Seattle or Alaska, but I have seen them available in New York at Whole Foods. If you are interested, try some next spring. However, be prepared to pay premium prices for the fish, on top of the premium pricing that you were already paying for shopping at Whole Foods. If money is also no object to you, and sweet wine is your thing, a bottle of Muscat Canelli 2007 from Chateau Ste Michelle would make a winning combination.
I went along with what Delicatessen made its name on again and ordered myself a Fried Chicken in a Bucket. This buttermilk-marinated half chicken came with a side of coleslaw, a biscuit, and ranch dressing. Honey spoke as if you could have fried chicken in a bucket everywhere else, but I had only seen such a name on the menu here. She also noticed that many of the family tables had ordered this same dish. It was quite popular for the night, as I always am with sexy single ladies.
My fried chicken was awesome. This is great comfort food, if not great comfort prices. The batter is light, which may not be as crunchy as Popeye’s, but similar to Korean fried chicken without the health benefits or ethnic flavorings. I am a lazy eater, so I wanted boneless pieces, but alas, these had bones. I expected that the wing and thigh had bones, but so too did the breast. However, it was only a few pieces of bones and nothing too troublesome. The coleslaw and biscuit were good too, but I did not finish them.
As the night grew later, the restaurant closed its automatic garage door. It was a good show for me, as I sat away from it, but others who had a table right by it might have felt more annoyed than entertained. There was someone monitoring the door as it came down, to ensure that no paying customer would smack his or her head into it, or have properties become damaged or what not from this operation.
Dessert sucked. The entire menu was boringly plain. Honey and I shared a Strawberry Shortcake, because Honey wanted to try its olive oil cake. My first bite into what I thought was a dried strawberry slice was overwhelmingly salty. Sea salt conquered our dessert. Overbearingly salty was the singular taste from all of this dessert.
I recommend disgracefully firing whichever pastry chef that thought of using sea salt to make dessert, and forever ban the individual from practicing in the industry. A basic law in dessert making is that dessert should be sweet. At least, that is how I like my desserts. Our strawberry shortcake was an exasperating disappointment and a culinary experiment gone horribly wrong.
Food: C
Drinks: F
Dessert: F
Ambiance: D
Final: D
The check came and I autographed it in Chinese. Honey thought my signature was unique. She had never seen someone sign in Chinese before. At one point, I had not either, until Lily had some relatives over from Taiwan, and then went shopping uptown and done the same. I saw and I copied. I typically sign with my simplified surname, adding a heart, but since I wanted Honey to see my full name, I wrote out my full Chinese name in traditional characters on my copy of the check. I wanted her to witness the autograph of a god.
I walked Honey over to the train station on Bleecker Street and we talked some more. This time, our talk orbited around one-night stands. We started in the day with my relationship problems, and now we were going to end the night with sex.
Honey and I debated family planning along with the issue. She would abort an accidental pregnancy, as with Lily, against what Angel and I would have decided in the past. I do not believe my stance has changed, were such a decision defaulted onto me nowadays, unless it was a one-night stand.
In continuing with my list of representative qualities, the last thing Honey confided to me for the night was that she has always seen me as an adult. This means other than handsome and smart, people view me as mature, relative to my young age, of course. As much as this is a compliment, I see it as a force of circumstance. I do not want to have to be mature. I want to be a man-child – An adult body with the heart of a youth. I am mature to take charge of situations, but I secretly like lover in charge over me. She will always protect me and let me be an immature brat. In turn, when her life gets out of control, I will always be there to take care of the crazies.
Always in a puff of smoke,
softrice
K One
[October 24, 2009]
Dear softrice fan:
When you wake up every morning, before you would even wash up, the first thing done is thinking about softrice. Honey woke up this morning, did just that, and texted me. She wanted to know what I was doing today. I had a busy schedule planned, but further delaying all of which were permissible to meet a pretty girl.
I washed up, finished writing AVS i535, changed, and went to Grand street station to meet up with Honey. We were heading to Sara Roosevelt Park for the Dumpling Eating Contest, which was taking place right across the street from Whole Foods on Bowery. On the way, we ran into Rui Ying. Surprisingly blessed with my presence, she said, “Oh my God! It is softrice!” I saluted her all the same, even though I have yet to think through if I should acknowledge the existence of those that would not have me in their lives.
The Dumpling Eating Contest was packed. Honey and I walked into the park to witness the world’s largest whole-wheat dumpling. It may be a big dumpling, but I doubt it is edible. For something with such impracticality, when food is scarce for so many starving people, lover would deem this as a waste and unworthy of her interests.
We squeezed pass masses of people, lining at various dumpling booths with different versions of the main attraction from around the world. The Italian version has its gnocchi, while the Chinese additionally featured its bao. Other less known varieties came from India and such. The dumplings at each booth were $5 a plate, with the proceeds benefiting the Food Bank.
Thousands of people had nothing better else to do on this fateful Saturday and came out to watch the main draw, which was the professional eating of as many dumplings as one possibly can within a limited amount of time. We just missed the male division go at it, but I had always preferred looking at girls to boys. However, this did not work in Honey’s favor though. It did not increase mine either, as none of the contestants that got up were palatable.
If I thought banking was cutthroat, this eating contest was more gruesome. Honey was telling me of last year’s champion, who simply plucks up the dumplings and drops them into her mouth, one by one, swallowing them whole. Honey thought it was a cute methodology of eating as many dumplings as she could. Well, last year’s champion returned, fully geared with sunglasses on even if it was a rainy day, and carried a black backpack. She did just as Honey described when the contest begun. I noticed that she would swallow a few dumplings at a time, and then washed them all down with a gulp of water. In the end, she ate 33 dumplings. However, this year’s winner ate an unimaginable 40 dumplings!
When the contest was over, it started to rain again. People began to open their umbrellas and disperse. Honey now craved for dumplings, but we settled for dim sum. She noticed a message from her friend, Jeanie, and the two would simultaneously try to call each other, while taking turns to miss the returning calls. After a few dozen times of doing so, they finally got through to one another. Jeanie ultimately decided on Golden Bridge, even though I wanted to try somewhere new.
Golden Bridge
50 Bowery Street, 2nd Floor
New York, NY 10013
212.227.8831
I received a forceful slap of reality when Honey told me that she made 30% more than I do. Money is no concern of mine, but I worry that lover might see me as falling below average. Considering my lack of exertion, of any amounts of energy, to do nothing but to keep afloat these past five years, perhaps it is time that I nudge my ambitions to move forward a tad bit. I received my career counseling from Honey for a while longer, as we waited for Jeanie to arrive.
This is my first time meeting Jeanie, even though Honey tells me that I have her on Facebook as a friend. The reach of softrice is fantastical. I may know a good number of people, but it does not mean I know a good amount on those people. Jeanie came and complained about the dirty seats. Honey accepted this as a positive, for they have been here for over half a decade. The worn and tear is not bad in her eyes, though like much about this once lively space, it is now lifeless to me.
Golden Bridge no longer has dim sum carts! They got rid of them, along with more than half of the staff. The new arrangement is for diners to walk up to a row of tables, set with their premade food. You would point and choose your wants, and a waiter would walk them over to you. There is absolutely no fun in this! A more sinister crime is their very limited offering of subpar items, and not even those are readily available to customers.
This restaurant is fated for death before past patrons would abandon it. Golden Bridge would not be able to serve you, even if you overlook all its mishaps to give it a second wind. The operators themselves do not believe people would come eat here, otherwise why would you have less than half of the staff that would be necessary to serve a full house, and do not even have the food available for such a small crowd on what should be a busy Saturday afternoon? There is no energy to this place. The only thing worth preserving would be its phone number. Golden Bridge might as well be dead than to live on as a pathetic version of its former self. Tragically, this same piece of advice applies just as well to me.
The girls went up to get the dim sums, and asked what I wanted. I requested my all time favorite dim sum, the bean curd skin roll. However, my glee dissipated when I saw the version offered here. The rolls did not look pretty or fresh. The coloring is off. It is an ugly dark brown instead of bright beige. Honey and Jeanie did not know what this dim sum was. The latter wanted me to tear open a roll for her to look at what is inside. They must have had a deprived upbringing to remain ignorant of the absolute greatness of the bean curd skin roll. The Golden Bridge version is blasphemy.
Honey and Jeanie were classmates from third grade, and so they both share childhood preferences for taro cakes and steamed rice rolls. I reminded Honey that the taro cakes could not be as good as the ones her grandmother makes. One bite into it, and there was no more reason to take a second. Jeanie enjoyed the lukewarm phoenix claws on her own, as Honey and I remain disinterested.
The last item the girls got was shumai. Lover has a friend with this nickname. This dim sum here tasted mediocre, but it easily stood out as the most faithful from the remainder of the cast.
I went up to pick out more dim sum, but as I got on the line to see what little else was available, one of the waitresses hunted me down for my dim sum sheet. She brought over two plates of shrimp rice rolls to my table, as the girls had ordered them, and urgently needed to put two stamps on my sheet! The waitress did not ask nicely, but I gave it to her anyway. When I returned to the table, Jeanie tells me that the chef was cheap, as the rice noodles cover only half the roll, instead of nicely and fully wrapping all of the shrimps within it. I desire the freshly made ones at the Flushing mall.
I wholeheartedly wanted to fulfill the desire of Honey to have dumplings this day, so I chose the only dumplings I saw available, which were the pan-fried fish dumplings. Gold was not the reward for my thoughtfulness, as Jeanie reveals that this dim sum was marked forbidden by Honey when they went on their first tour of the dim sums. I ate one and it was not bad, but it was not good either. Jeanie tried one next, but after a bite, she deposed the corpse of the dumpling to the far side of her plate. I finished the last of the three fish dumplings, since I did not want the food I ordered to go to waste.
The classic shrimp dumplings fared no better. They were lukewarm and were not to the fancy of Jeanie. Apparently, she likes shrimps wrapped around in smooth rice noodles, but is completely averse to shrimps chunks with white pieces of something else, wrapped within a thick coat of dough. Honey and I did not understand the opposite receptions that Jeanie gave the two dim sums, but we left it at that.
My third and final selection was scallion pancakes, but these were not your traditional incarnations. These scallion pancakes were three flat balls of dough with diced meat inside. Jeanie demanded that I rip one apart so that she can view its insides again.
This is my first time meeting Jeanie, and I could already tell that her most distinguishing quality is violence. I voiced my pity for her boyfriends, as she would rip them apart in the same manner before their inner qualities could attract notice. Jeanie counters by asking if I do not even bother to look at the insides of a girl, and just care for how she appears on the outside. Lover would dissect bodies to operate on their insides, but I have to rely on my golden fiery eyes to pierce through mortal exteriors and see their souls. If only other girls had hearts as chaste as lover does, then maybe I might respond better to them.
Jeanie summarized our lunch best by stating that our Chrysanthemum tea was the most favorable, and even then, it does comparably poor to other restaurants. Before leaving and for the rest of the day, I would call Jeanie by the name of Elanne instead. It is a better name. Elanne may or may not fit Jeanie, but it is a better name.
Food: F
Drinks: N/A
Dessert: N/A
Ambiance: F
Final: F
We were walking to Grand street station, with intentions of attending the pumpkin festival in Central Park, but the drizzling became a steady rain. I wanted to see Astro Boy, Jeanie mentioned bowling repeatedly, but Honey convinced us to go karaoke. Jeanie suggested the usual venues, including Biny, Galaxy, and Mott. With my offensive charm, I steered the girls into trying the new K One.
K One is on the second floor of 97 Bowery Street. The first floor is under massive construction, for whatever it is going to be that I do not know yet. The other currently operating business is a TVB rental venue, which is in the basement. Their posters are viewable on ground level, to attract whatever customer base that has yet to download their shows online.
I pointed to the two new TVB series – Beyond the Realm of Conscience, and Born Rich – And asked if the girls were watching them. I prefer the prior series set during the Tang dynasty, and unsurprisingly, Honey and Jeanie preferred the latter modern series. Angel would have felt the same as the girls, maybe because the material would feel more relevant. I obviously relate more to the ambitions and greatness achievable in imperial times. I also like Charmaine Sheh as Lau Sam Ho.
The three of us took the elevator to the second floor. The elevator door opened, and the colorful and sparkly spire of lights dangling atop their stairway immediately wowed us. Lover would really like this.
The price was $6 per person per hour for a room dedicated just for our singing pleasures. This was a very good deal, for those of us that cared about money. Jeanie thought she had only $20 in her wallet, so we walked her, in the rain, to the Chase at the corner of Bowery and Grand.
I saw Kathy on the way, and she chirpily greeted my presence. I do not know why people are happy to greet me. Knowing each other, even if it is nothing beyond a face and a name, is fate. With this mentality, I greeted her all the same.
My bank is Citibank. Honey uses HSBC. I have no idea why Jeanie permits Chase to hold her money. I instructed Jeanie to withdraw the maximum amount she could do so in one go. Jeanie was deaf to my request, as she did not believe my lie that Honey and I could always use more of a trading currency. Upon opening her wallet, Jeanie discovered that she had a lot more than $20. This had been an unnecessary trip. I thanked her for her brightness, and led the way back to K One.
K One
97 Bowery Street, 2nd & 3rd Floor
New York, NY 10002
212.925.1999
http://www.konektv.com/
Our room was awesome! It was huge for three people, and the leather couches seated us comfortably. I especially enjoyed the dim blue lighting of the ambiance. My only complaint may be their ventilation, as the room might feel a slight bit too warm and stuffy after a few hours.
Our waiter turned on the karaoke system and let it load for a few minutes. I like their touch screen system, which is so user friendly even I figured it out after a few trial and errors. There is no remote. There are two sets of the same buttons on different walls, which allows you to control the volume of the music, skip, pause, or replay the song. We pressed the green button the most, which sets the original artist to sing along, but some of the English songs lacked this functionality.
The girls do not know how to read Chinese, so their main draw here was for English songs. These came in a separate binder. The girls would search through the book, find the song they want to identify its corresponding number, and then enter it into the system.
In the interim, I searched the database and found my Chinese songs. I find much more fun and comfort singing Chinese songs, which I am sure, is the opposite for the girls. I started with two Charlene Choi songs – Two Missing One, and I’m Sorry. I was really looking for Survivor, but that is too new of a song for me to blame K One for not having. I then moved on to Palm Prints, by Elanne Kong, to enlighten Jeanie why Elanne is the better name.
I sang two Joey Yung songs. The first was Not Know Yet, which excited Jeanie, for she repetitively reminded me that it is a cover to an English song. Jeanie sang the English lyrics while I was singing the Cantonese one. The second song was One Slam Two Divided, which was much more heartfelt to me. Carmen gave this song to Angel and I, whose title foretold our fate. Ironically, her lookalike, Jade, who became a better friend of mine later on in life, also liked Joey.
The summit of my delight was my serendipitous stumbling upon the treasure chest of Linda Chung songs! K One has all her hottest songs from Linda’s first album, which makes this karaoke hotspot the most up to date in my book. I sang the classical Swear, and then moved on to her newer songs, which I never got a chance to sing at a karaoke before! I sang Actually I’m Happy, and the music video vividly reminded me of how pretty Linda is! I went on with Matchstick Paradise, and concluded my initial run with her duet with Steven Ma, Small Story.
Our drinks arrived to rejuvenate my seductive voice. I selected A Better Melonball, whose name gained a few laughs from Honey and Jeanie. The drink itself was acceptable in taste, and certainly attractive in a bright green color. Both the girls got the same terrible drink, which was a mix of aloe and honey with water. A fatal flaw in the drinks is that they all come with an overwhelming amount of ice cubes, so ice is the dominant taste rather than any hint of alcohol.
Jeanie volunteered the information that these were easy drinks to mix, and she had the right to judge for she has a bartending license from the New York Bartending School. I wanted to do the same thing, but never found the right opportunity or a compatible partner to follow through on the matter. Curiosity is my nature, so I asked if the course was difficult to complete. Jeanie describes the test, but never goes on to detail how the course itself pans out. She recommends that I attend the course with a friend, as we need partners to mix and exchange trial drinks. Her wisdom reaffirms that it would also be more fun. No duh, like she really told me anything useful! If only I had a friend to do this with!
It was now the girls’ turn to sing. Their arsenal of English songs included those by Britney Spears, Kelly Clarkson, Spice Girls, and all time favorite Disney songs, from Aladdin to the Beauty and the Beast. Jeanie asked which Disney princess I liked best. I thought of Ariel, and so named her as my favorite. I remember lover favoring The Little Mermaid too, and I once asked her to go see the Broadway play.
Honey sang less than four songs, and her throat was already scratchy. She was losing her voice. Lily once told me about this same limitation the last time we went to Mott. I wonder if this is a girl thing, as I have no clue why this is. As the girls continue to sing, I went to the restroom to pee. K One has a clean restroom! Alternatively, is it so early that no one else has defiled it yet? On my way back, I noticed a humongous room in the back, which I can make an educated guess that it is for big groups. There were a few other small rooms like ours, which did not add up to much space, but K One does have one other floor upstairs.
The fruit platter that we ordered finally came, after over an hour wait. The watermelon and honeydew slices were the best, while the strawberries were a mixed bag of sweet and sour, depending on your luck of the draw. There were grapes with seeds, but the only fruit that we did not touch were the orange slices. I simply did not want to go through the trouble, as it came with the skin, but I remain ignorant of why the girls did not fancy this fruit either. All of us wanted to eat fruits, rather than the other junk food that their menu offered, but we knew too that for $30, we could have gone downstairs and gotten cases of fruits at the Chinatown markets than simply a platter. K One had to earn money somehow!
The girls made me sing, while they gobbled away the fruits. I really need Prima to duet my Chinese songs. I went for some reliable Andy Lau songs, which were Ice Rain and His Woman. Honey requested Jacky Cheung songs, so randomly selected Tao Human Tao. The music video had him in ancient garbs and a wooden sword, which left both girls cracking up. I sung one of his more classical duets, Love in Wind and Rain, and now the reception was that I chose oldie songs. Hey, Prima said my voice was better suited for these songs. I need to find my representative one.
Continuing along the lines of nostalgia, I sang Storm Riders by Ekin Cheng. Depressingly so, both Honey and Jeanie did not watch this awesome movie back in the days. Equally so, they lacked my excitement for the upcoming sequel, Storm Warriors, to be released this December!
The girls went another round of English songs, but were painfully slow for Jeanie. She was falling asleep and demanded a fast song to wake her up. We played a song by 50 Cent. The girls could hardly keep up with the beat, and I am sure 50 Cent would cringe upon hearing this incarnation. However, I do enjoy this opportunity to hear his work, as I am reading his life story in The 50th Law, a book he wrote with Robert Greene.
Our last hour was upon us, so I sang Linda Chung songs again. I am purposefully exposing more of her songs to Honey and Jeanie, as much as I can, in hopes of winning over more fans for my idol. I sang Two Person World, which had the girls question the lyrics. The girls did not think they made sense, especially the part with the N and R Line and mentioning of Manhattan, but does not go on with other international cities in this song about traveling the world. I do not know the story behind the lyrics either, but Honey likes how Linda sings the world portion of it. The sly Jeanie wonders aloud if I knew that Linda is my age, so I smartly reply with Linda’s birthday – April 9, 1984.
My closing performance was Love Without Regrets, by Raymond Lam. Jeanie wonders if I dislike Raymond, reasoning that he is dating my Linda. I corrected her and clarified that they were only an on screen couple. Linda and Raymond may also be a rumored couple, but both have denied that they were dating in real life. I am okay with Raymond Lam songs. Some stand out, like this one, but most of them pretty much does sound the same.
Honey and I were both standing up to sing this. I sang the song, while Honey passionately clenched her fists and belched out, “Let go”, whenever that phrase came up, and it did often. We had lots of fun, even arguing over whether or not the girl in the MV was Linda Chung. Jeanie, not being a devoted fan, thought it was. Me being the Linda Chung spokesperson of the group smacked some sense into her and told her that it was not. Honey, being the arbitrator, sided with me and pointed to evidence throughout the MV that the girl was not Linda Chung. The girl looked like Linda Chung from faraway, which I suspect was intentional to mislead loyal Linda Chung followers, but she was ugly and messed up in close up shots compared to my adorable Sheung Joy Sum.
Food: D
Drinks: D
Dessert: N/A
Ambiance: B
Final: C-
The plan was to go see Astro Boy after karaoke, but we missed the movie time, so we thought to have a quick dinner in Chinatown first, and then to journey uptown to a theater. Jeanie wanted to go to Tu Du restaurant, which she still believed was on the same block as K One. I pointed across the street and said they moved. Jeanie provides no sense that she actually lives in Chinatown, even though she just lives a block or so away from Grand Street.
Nam Son
245 Grand Street
New York, NY 10002
212.966.6507
To avoid the strengthening rain, the three of us simply went around the corner to Nam Son. I dined here before, with lover and the Baruchies, for lunch, during a Chinese New Year celebration. We had not gone out of the way to revisit this restaurant, so that should testify on the deliciousness of their food. Nonetheless, I still cherish the awesome time I once shared with lover and our friends here.
Honey knew what she wanted. Only a few seconds passed, after we had ordered, that her Beef Cubed with White Rice, Onions, Lettuce, and Cucumbers, came placed on our table. Jeanie and I would have to wait a few moments longer for our food, but Honey dived in.
For an unknown reason, my left hand started to itch. Jeanie attempts at a sense of humor and asks if I had washed my hands after going to the bathroom. I boringly launch into offense mode and say, “No”, and then motioned to infect her. Honey could not understand why we spoke of such things when she was trying to eat.
In the middle of another conversation, I wanted to tell Jeanie that I did not go to school, but she shocked me by commenting on my MBA. Honey later revealed that earlier in the day, Jeanie wondered if I knew English or just recently came from Hong Kong, so she told her that I am an ABC with an MBA. This is the discriminatory treatment I get for being super smart and speak Cantonese fluently, but what an opportunity to shut someone up from looking down upon you by telling her that I have a graduate degree!
Jeanie was further humbled when she learned that I was not in the process of getting it, but it has been years since I got the cute little piece of paper. Jeanie protests that it is unfair that I have one and she does not. I lack the intelligence to process such logic, as I was the one that went through the trouble of going to Business School and completing all its necessary work, while she did nothing all this time. Perhaps she deserves one just because I got mine. In fact, I should make copies of my degree and start passing them out on the streets, like flyers, since everyone else would like one too!
Jeanie strongly favored Vietnamese food, which was why we came to such an ethnic restaurant tonight, so she unsurprisingly went for their signature Xe Lua. This is a rice noodles in beef soup, with six differences in beef that included brisket, bavel, frank, omosa, tendon, and eye of round. Jeanie grabbed two bottles of condiments and squirted the different sauces onto her bowl. She claims this is how to eat Vietnamese food.
Angel and I used to love mixing the sauces for our soup noodles then too, but we did so with their provided side plates. We would not do as Jeanie was doing now. I commented on how her colorful swirls look like my food after digestion, in a toilet bowl, and awaiting the great flush to a bluer ocean. Honey wonders again how we come to talk of such a topic, when we are eating. A good reason may be that the two, eating and pooping, are different stages of the same process.
Onwards to the topic of commute, Jeanie thought I took the PATH at 33rd Street in order to go to my studio in Hoboken. I offered that there was another station at the World Trade Center, which is a lot closer to Chinatown, and made much more sense for me to use. Jeanie was now furthermore enlightened to the rice options we New Yorkers have in terms of transportation. I began to realize that she not only lacks the sense of living in Chinatown, but also could not even communicate the feel of living in New York City altogether.
My food took the longest to arrive, as its preparation required a lengthier amount of time. I should be glad mine was not premade, as the beef cubed over rice must have been. I had the Grilled Beef and Spring Roll with Sesame Seasoning Lettuce on Rice Vermicelli. Both the girls did not like my dish, as the two voiced similar complaints against my lack of soup, its dry nature, and the thickness of my noodles. I typically prefer pan-fried noodles to soup noodles anyway, so I am fine with what I have. This may not be the best iteration I had, but it is a suitable meal on a rainy evening.
A comical scene arose from my keen observations on our surrounding environment. A skinny girl, among a group of friends, sat at a table to our far right, on a big table for groups of over five but fewer than ten. She appeared strange, as she was dressed in a black gown, with red stripes hanging down on both sides of her neck. It looked as though she was coming from a pageant, sans the glitz and glamour. However, what captured my attention was her nibbling away at a whole leaf of cabbage. It was hilarious. I told both the girls to glance over, and after what should have been an inconspicuous look, they could not help but burst out in laughter too!
Jeanie questioned why I my attention concentrated on this girl for the better part of the night. I retorted by saying it because of the lack of attractions found at my own table. She is undecided if I thought the girl was cute or weird, even though the answer was plain for all to see. I have a bias for pretty girls, so whenever there is a silly scene with my loveliest girl, I only find lover completely adorable in her acts of innocence and naivety. However, since this girl was neither pretty nor attractive, I easily found her weird and worthy of my mockery. I asked Jeanie if she needed me to go rip the girl apart for her to look at her insides too, and the three of us shared another round of laughs aloud again.
Near the end of our meal, another useless thought came from Jeanie. She suggested that if I wanted a girlfriend, I should go see Honey’s girl friends. I immediately stopped her there and then. Honey does not have girl friends that are pretty, so even entertaining a consideration would be an unnecessary waste of time and energy. Debate varying standards as we did, but the conclusion does not change. Honey was far more generous and agreed to the extent that they were not my cup of tea. My cup of tea needs to be elegant and sophisticated, educated yet naive, curious yet innocent, tough yet vulnerable, otherworldly yet down to earth, and as amazingly one of a kind as only lover can be. I guess I sure drink some rare tea.
Food: D
Drinks: N/A
Dessert: N/A
Ambiance: D
Final: D
Psyched to go see Astro Boy, I rushed to get a MetroCard at the nearby train station at Grand Street, while the girls waited for me outside the restaurant. Alas, the Heavens had another schedule for me. As we waited for the 103 bus, the rain poured harder and harder. It pounded the spirits of the girls, and they no longer wished to watch a movie, while being half soaked in a theater. We decided to go home and see Astro Boy another day.
Honey offered a compensation time tomorrow, which sparked Jeanie to ask why we were meeting again tomorrow. I leaned in close and confided in her with our secret. The answer was because I am handsome.
I playfully suggested that Honey crash at Jeanie’s place, instead of trekking all the way back into Brooklyn, which only seemed so much further away in the heavy rain. Jeanie then countered by asking why Honey could not stay at my home instead. I gave her an exaggerated reaction, but Jeanie mistook my widening eyes as hopeful towards that possibility, of having a girl to stay over with me. She is ignorant of the fact that Honey and I already shared the same bedroom, for many nights together, when we went to London and Glasgow on vacation. Someone needs an update on her intelligence before making the proper commentary.
As we were prepared to part ways, the rain died down. The night skies were no longer pouring as hard only moments before. The basis of our decision seemed to have disappeared, but I would not reverse our decision. We part. Once I have made a decision, it is the word of god, and its act the will of Heaven. There is no use to doubt myself evermore.
If a love can change when say change then it is no love to me. I believe in sustainability. Prima believes in permanence. Both beliefs affirm a relationship that will not change through a strength that can rival time. My love chose herself and I will love her to the end of time. Lover will be my witness to that.
Always in a puff of smoke,
softrice
